Inhale; exhale, you.

by abillionbeautifulbutterflies

In some moments it becomes clear;

like closing your hands around air,

there is nothing you can keep.

There are only things you can feel.

Letting go is even an illusion.

There is nothing to let go of;

you can’t hold on to air.

You can just feel it.

Just feel it.

Passing across your skin;

or coolingly scented entering the middle of your face;

filling your lungs, coursing through your veins, escaping between your lips.

And then gone,

passing over 1,000s of miles over salty water and dry deserts.

Sometimes you can watch it go.

Always you can feel it.

Never can you keep it,

just- so.